


The Last Time

by infinityonfic



Series: Thranduil and Wifey Oneshots [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinityonfic/pseuds/infinityonfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He laughed for starlight, but only from her lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirraqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirraqueen/gifts).



> This is a little thing I wrote for [Misia](http://kirraqueen.tumblr.com). (Find me on [tumblr](http://byestille.tumblr.com))

It was only by accident that someone had jokingly asked, “When was the last time you laughed?” at dinner earlier that night. As soon as the whole table went quiet, whoever had made the comment cleared their throat and continued conversation.

Only the question lingered, weaved through his mind as his eyes grew weary. The Elvenking did not often crave sleep; it either came upon him with ease, or he accepted the misfortune and used his alertness for productivity. However, he remained in bed, his hands folded across his abdomen, eyes restlessly tracing the patterns on the ceiling.

When _was_ the last time he laughed? Or smiled genuinely at that? Both were questions he knew the answer to very well, but was not willing to think upon. Hadn’t, at least until someone’s tongue slipped and brought the idea to his mind.

He sighed with frustration, shutting his eyes in defiance of his rampant thoughts. Thranduil was never one to let emotion cloud his rationality.

He remembered all too well, and as sleep drew away the veil that masked his vulnerability, the king’s mind fell into the bittersweet recollections of a dream-like memory.

{~}

“Thranny,” her gentle voice carried along the breeze that she let in through the open window. He heard a smile in her tone, and upon turning he was graced with the sight of one.

Thranduil quite despised the nickname and his wife knew it well, always using it when it was just the two of them, when she was trying to fracture his unwavering exterior. His gaze fell upon her, eyebrows drawn in as he tried to figure out the motive behind her using the pet name.

“You may be king,” she said (and later she would have added: _you’ll always be mine_ ), “But even a king must give way to compassion.” There was a calm, dreamy lilt to her voice that always eased the weight he carried, soothed the turbulent anger that became frequent upon taking the throne.

“My king,” she uttered, tilting her head to one side while regarding him with tender eyes, “ _When was the last time you laughed?_ ”

Thranduil’s gaze softened slightly, the welcome memory of the last time he had laughed in her presence passing in his mind.

“Why must you ask when you know as well as I?” He replied simply, turning away to maintain his tenacity which he slowly felt crumble under the nimble, practised words of his wife. He took to taking off his rings, placing them one by one where they always went. Once he was satisfied, he turned around to find her watching outside the window.

“What is it that you see?” He asked, gaze settled on the back of her head rather than attempting to peer outside to determine the object of her interest.

She turned, her lip twitching into a smile that made him suspicious. “The dwarves have arrived bearing a box that I can only imagine contains your long sought after white gems of Lasgalen.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and tipped his chin up. “You should not jest of a matter which holds so much delicacy.”

“But why not? You lust after them so; it is quite amusing.” He could tell she was searching for a way under his thick skin, though he refused to believe it was working even though her dulcet tones enticed his sensitivity.

She puffed her chest up and tilted her chin towards the ceiling slightly. She began pacing, regarding him with mock judgemental eyes, eerily similar to those he gave to an unwelcome guest. “Those filthy dwarves have taken what is ours,” she started, her voice dropped down a few octaves to mimic her husband’s. His hand twitched at his side as she continued, “The white gems of…” she paused, a breathiness to her voice that often overcame Thranduil’s own when he talked of what he desired so deeply. The look in her eyes was no less accurate either, what with the dreamy gaze fixated on nothing in particular. “Starlight.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes further and turned around with a huff, the endearing ring of his wife’s laugh not escaping him. That was a slip up he had made only once, a mistake that came as a result of being slave to his desire.

She laughed once more, causing a sated sigh to escape him. “Starlight,” she muttered once more, and he turned back again, if only to see her smile.

His attempts to repress his own smile failed, even more so upon seeing his wife’s bright eyes fixed on his, a spark of hope flaring behind them. Thranduil’s smile grew until his chest swelled with a familiar adoration, and he dropped his head so that his hair would curtain his face as he let out a short laugh.

“I worked so hard,” she complained, amusement apparent in her tone, “Yet my king hides the laugh I coaxed out of him.”

She stepped forward and pushed his hair aside, her fingers ghosting along his skin. As his eyes met with hers, Thranduil could not disallow as another fond smile graced his lips.

She put out her hand, which he graciously took as she stepped forward once more, resting her head upon his chest. “I should only wish to hear you laugh more,” she whispered. “And if these be the means by which I make that happen, so be it.”

“My dear, it is not by ill humour nor cheap jokes for which I laugh, but by the grace of your wish to hear it.”

She hummed and replied, “Very fond words of one who does not laugh half as much as I would like.”

The resolve that had given way to the rare affection caused him to let out another affectionate laugh, bringing one hand up to stroke her hair. “Perhaps. But maybe it would put you at ease to know you are the only one who ever hears it.”

She looked up at her king and smiled. “Though it does not satisfy my fill, it does quell my worries that I shall ever miss a single laugh from you, my lord.”

With that, she pressed her lips to the silken fabric of his robe and moved away, promising to return after she paid a visit to their son. Were it not for the persistent warmth that filled him and the risk of being seen as such, Thranduil would have gone with her. Rather, he remained in the chambers and felt as the ease reached through him like tendrils.

{~}

The weight in his chest grew, the hollowness more prevalent than he had hoped it would be. His eyes opened of their own accord, so Thranduil sat up and waited a moment before pulling on a light robe, promptly leaving the room. Sleep would have to come another night; tonight was for distracting the ever-growing emptiness.


End file.
